


PREDATOR EYES

by jamie_stsin



Category: Sherlock Holmes - fandom
Genre: Anal Sex, Bloody Sex, Bloody violence what do you expect, Blowjobs, Jim is cracked, Literally blood filled sex, M/M, Rather violent sex, Seb is an idiot, THERE'S A LOT HERE OKAY, Violence, mormor
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-23
Updated: 2014-09-14
Packaged: 2018-02-14 10:24:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2188218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jamie_stsin/pseuds/jamie_stsin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Literally, this is my first Mormor, and prior to this I had 0 knowledge to really run off of when it comes to their relationship, so this is just my take on it and yada yada yada. Enjoy.</p>
    </blockquote>





	1. (NOT SO) CHANCE MEETING

**Author's Note:**

> Literally, this is my first Mormor, and prior to this I had 0 knowledge to really run off of when it comes to their relationship, so this is just my take on it and yada yada yada. Enjoy.

Their first meeting had been by chance, or so Sebastian liked to lie to himself.

He should have known better. Should have known that even if he'd buried himself in a scummy side of London and slunk into its alleys and gutters, that someone would find him somewhere. He'd attempted to blend into the concrete jungle of living, but it was so different from the jungles he'd emerged from, slid through, killed in. There were no predators to find him here, simply flabby pale bodies and doe like eyes that turned on him as he walked himself through a pub to sit against the bar and rap scarred knuckles on the counter for a drink. 

He should have known better.

The man had come upon him in a suit, too trim and fancy in a setting like the dingy pub Seb occupied. His pale blue eyes had been drawn to that blood money outfit faster than anyone else could register that the small and slight man had even stepped into the building in polished shoes. To the ex-colonel, the man looked like he belonged with his face plastered on a building front as the CEO. Or would have, if it wasn't for the look in his eyes. 

It was that look that had drawn the trained man in.

Dark eyes, wild and cold, predatory. They showed more promise than any of the scum-buckets walking the streets combined did. They were calculating, intelligent, wild, psychotic. They spoke volumes of the smaller man without him so much as saying anything, even as he stepped up to the bar with a smile snapped into place and spoke on a soft voice, an accent lilting on the edges.

This man was a monster, and Moran knew a monster when he saw one; was drawn to him like a moth to a flame almost immediately, all because of that look in those dark eyes. It brought a small stirring of life into bones that had dulled since he'd stepped foot in the city and rented a flat that was stuck in the slums. It breathed warmth into his body, kickstarted his heart all with the smallest prick of danger to his senses, and he loved it.

Moran watched the man, tilted his head a little even before looking away, focusing his blue eyes on the mirror in front of him instead, nursing and sipping on his choice of poison in a glass. The reflection stared back at him; outlined every scar on his neck and arms, the few on his face, and drew his attention to the fact that the other man with his dark and dangerous eyes was looking at the mirror as well, but his gaze was on him. It should have made his skin crawl, to be looked at like he was simply prey, but the simple fact was that it made him feel... exhilarated. The way the dark eyes roamed over his scars, and the way the man turned away from the reflection to baldly look at him and snake a hand over, unsurprisingly soft as his fingers stretched, pressing onto a scar that ran jaggedly across his cheek. Seb should have struck out. He should have grabbed that tiny wrist and snapped it, but instead, his pale blue eyes moved to stare out of his peripherals at the man as he leaned close, smiling in a way that told him it was a wise move to sit still.

"I do so like your scars, Sebastian." The ex-military man stiffened just barely, a tightening of his spine and muscles, unseen but not unseen enough. "Oh yes. I know you. I've known about you since the moment you stepped into this city," the man breathed, leaning in close to let his soft voice (soft but deadly, a touch of psychotic off the walls batshit insane maybe) trail into his ear. 

"Such a well trained soldier, not even rising to the bait. You're far more perceptive than I thought at first glance. Maybe you're not too much of an idiot after all." The laugh that peeled from batshit-crazy's mouth made Seb tense just barely, his fingers switching his grip on his glass, training kicking in as he planned steps ahead for a fight, letting his instincts run off with him, wild and primal. Animalistic. 

The voice in his ear gave way with a soft moaning sigh, a snarky grin on his lips as the suit leaned back, sitting back and tilting his head as he finished his drink. 

"The alley, Sebastian. Tomorrow at nine pm. Do try to be punctual."

The alley in the back of the pub was where it all started.


	2. BACK WHERE IT ALL BEGAN

Rugged, tactless, always a little more worse for where on first sight, but punctual.  
  
Sebastian was always punctual when following the right orders, and though he didn't know a damn thing about the man that had ordered him to show up in the back alley (with the clock clicking to 8:58) he found himself stepping into a grimy corridor of slum brick buildings. It was the Devil-soft voice, the way he had looked as he had ordered it, that had tickled something deep inside the ex-colonel. It had drawn up an excitement that he hadn't felt since he'd been in the jungles in India, facing down the black striped orange of a beast that outweighed him and easily outmatched him. The same beast he had brought down with his bare hands and took the life from, watching the brilliant orange eyes fade and flicker out, the spark of life forced out of its body.  
  
The brilliant fiery hues of those eyes were nothing compared to the dark pits that seemed to haunt him even as he walked between the grime coated buildings, heavy combat boots thumping into puddles in the misting night. The worst of the rain was gone, leaving puddles and a thick mist in the air that seemed to cling to his lungs and the back of his throat as he made his way to the back of the pub, rolling his shoulders and unable to shake off the feeling that something, someone, was watching him. It was a feeling that kept him on edge, his brain hardwired into survival as he thumped around a corner and arched a brow at the vacancy of the alley. Moran shifted and pulled a hand out of his pocket, glancing down. Nine pm on the dot.  
  
It seemed the guy was a no show.  
  
Part of Sebastian was put off, a little disappointed even, but as he grit his teeth and snapped his shoulders up, he shoved the thoughts aside. He should have known it would have gone down like this. Should have known- someone was coming through the back door of the pub.  
  
The blonde snapped his head up and around, pale blue eyes narrowing towards the dingy door as it shrieked open on rusty hinges, the silhouette of a man far larger than batshit-crazy nearly blocking out a view to the bar inside. The man, whoever the fuck he was, was build like a goddamned tank, and it was probably no coincidence that he was coming out to the back alley at the same time Seb had been told to show up. Straightening his posture, the dangerous man found his muscles coiling tight under the fabric of his jacket, his fingers itching to reach for a pocket that hid a folded switchblade, so neatly tucked against his leg that it would have taken a thorough look to even notice the outline of the handle.  
  
Tall, muscular, and beady eyed noticed the man, and a slow grin pulled on his doughy face with his mismatched teeth. He looked as sharp as a bag full of stones, something that Seb picked up on immediately with the first impression he gained. When tall, dark, and stupid pushed himself out of the doorway, he bee-lined for Moran immediately, leaving the door to swing shut behind him with a shriek of abused metal. It thumped, and the smaller man was moving in a heartbeat, his hand slipping into his pocket and emerging with a glimmer of steel and a soft _schnick!_ of the blade opening, whistling through the air. Blood surged through his veins, and for a moment, Seb lit up like a child on Christmas morning, all bright eyes and excitement that came with the pump of adrenaline in his veins that brought cold bones to life and shook off the ice that had formed on them.   
  
For one moment, Sebastian Moran felt alive.  
  
With a hiss of air, the blade found purchase in a pale neck, digging the point in and ripping through flesh like butter, trailing to paint a jagged and wicked smile. With the jugular severed, the artery could do nothing but spray paint the wall crimson, and the gorilla of a man dropped like the sack of rocks he was as smart as. It was hardly a challenge, and the brief living moment faded, the warmth receding from Seb's bones and leaving him in the cold reality of life again as he tutted and used the asshole's now useless clothing to clean the blade and snap it shut, pocketing it once more and trailing his fingers to find a pack of cigarettes stuck in his other pocket. He retrieved one, sticking the filter in his mouth and lighting it up in a flare of red and orange that painted his scarred features before flickering out, and he took a drag as he heard soft steps.  
  
Part of the military trained man wanted to snarl in annoyance, because part of him knew exactly who those steps belonged to. They were too light to be a bumbling oaf like King Kong's stupid ass, and too heavy to be something of the feminine sort, though they came close to it. Regardless, it was a clop of leather soles, and not the click of heels, that made him look over towards the mouth of the alley, revealing the shadowy outline of a small figured man, backlit by the streetlights down the way. The figure seemed at home in the shadows, and Moran took a pull on his cigarette, puffing out the smoke with a growl in the back of his throat, a jagged edged noise that drew the other closer to him and into the radius of the light from above the back door of the pub.  
  
"Tut tut, Sebby. You ruined him too quickly. Here I thought you'd try to drag it out, even just a little bit. You made it so.. bo-ooring." The voice trilled, dancing up in the air and dipping back down, slithering like a snake and coiling into Sebastian's mind, sinking intoxicatingly down into every nook and crevice. The man in his blood money suit smiled, pearly white teeth and skewed amusement as he stepped closer, stalking almost and causing Seb's heart to give another jolt of adrenaline from the look in the dark dark eyes that seemed to suck him in eternally. Still, the larger man remained silent, puffing on his nicotine addiction like there was no tomorrow and looking entirely unamused at the situation at hand, thoroughly refusing to accept the fact that blatantly ruining someone's circulatory system and coloring the dingy brick wall with their sticky warm blood was in a way, exhilarating.   
  
So much for him being a no show.   
  
Seb had the shrewd idea that the wily little fucker with his cold eyes had planned the entire thing out.   
  
It didn't help said little fucker was smiling at him like he'd found a new toy to play with.  
  
Sebastian should have turned then and walked out of the alley, with the danger prickling over his body in waves and pulling at every instinct, drawing warm life everywhere that he'd thoroughly forgotten.   
  
It was the pull of adrenaline and the look in the man's eyes as he stared at him, licking his lips, that drew Seb in like a fly to the web of a spider. A helpless fly, or moth, bound into sticky ropes of webbing and carefully drawn in closer and closer, collected rather than eaten, but still stuck with the ever looming threat of his life being snipped short with just a small motion from the spider.  
  
"Well. As boring as you made it, it could have been worse, I suppose," the man said, sniffing and twitching his nose slightly, still eying Moran like a piece of meat.   
  
He felt distinctly like the man was backing him into a corner, but he refused to budge, instead finishing his cigarette in silence and flicking the butt into a puddle where it fizzled and died with a sputter.  
  
"What do you want from me?" Sebastian spoke at last, his tongue curled around the last bitter tangs of tar and his voice rasping out, gravelly and low as the man arched a brow and tipped his head to one side like a ridiculously wide-eyed puppy. A puppy that any normal person would have put down at first chance.  
  
"Isn't it obvious? You _idiot_. I want you in my employ." The tone was snarky, soft, and dangerous, carrying a hidden threat that Sebastian could practically taste and choke on if he cared to seek it out like a tongue for a sore tooth.   
  
He remained silent, staring the man down for a moment before his hands shoved into his pockets with a final decision. Why the fuck not? If he could have a little fun and see pretty boy a little more often, perhaps it would help chase away the humdrum grey of whatever the fuck his life had become since his departure from the military and his treks through the jungles and wilder lands of the world.  
  
"I don't see why the fuck not," Seb sighed at last, rolling his shoulders and watching the predator like smile light up on the smaller man's face. The man who he had no idea was, but seemed to take a liking to.    
  
It felt like he was signing a contract with the devil, using the blood spray on the wall as his proverbial fucking signature on the paper the man held, and for once, Seb didn't give a flying damn. He was signing whatever was leftover of his twisted and rotten soul to the employ of a man that made him feel alive after what felt like years of isolation from himself.   
  
"Good boy, Sebby. Good boy. Now. Come."  
  
Whoever said Sebastian Moran didn't follow orders was a goddamn liar. He followed orders, he just didn't follow them from people that he thought were unworthy. The man easily followed the figure, out of the alley way and into the street, to a car that sat waiting.  
  
In that back alley on that (not so) fateful night, Sebastian Moran found himself hearing orders from a man he would come to know as James Moriarty. He'd signed his soul over to he man and never looked back.  
  
Why would he want to look back, when there was so much more destruction and delightful potential for _more_ ahead?  
  
That night, Sebastian Moran became the famed tiger on a leash for Jim Moriarty; ruthless and efficient, ever pushing and ever receiving pain.   
  
He was in over his head and he hadn't even started.


	3. YOU BELONG TO ME.

From the alley to months later, Sebastian Moran found his life growing in leaps and bounds, so much more alive than the mess it had been when he'd first dragged travel weary feet into the city he'd come to enjoy and hate at the same time. 

It had started off so dingy and shit poor where he was, sitting in a flat that had cracks in plastered walls and chips in the ceiling, where he could stay and not care about a damn thing. What use did he have in caring for a place he would hardly stay, really? And hardly stay he did. Sebastian had enveloped himself into the shadows he toyed with, perched in plain sight yet never spotted before his finger was squeezing a trigger and with an echoing _bang!_ his target was dropped. 

From there he was on to the next one and the next, picking up information and continuing on, maybe flirting (not that he could) on the way to wheedle tidbits he needed out of people.

It was like that for months.

Until today.

Today he was sitting on the edge of a barely used bed that creaked with a scream of springs as his scarred arms moved, his hands slipping over the barrel of his gun with a rag, cleaning meticulously as he puffed on yet another cigarette. Smoke slipped from his lips; encircled his head in a mockery of a halo before it was swept away as his head lifted, the sound of the door opening drawing his attention.

Sharp as ever, Moran had his fingers on a blade as he stood and walked out of his room, leaving behind the precious rifle as he did, only to pause and arch a brow. 

Mr. Devil-in-a-suit himself stood in the doorway with a look of disgust pinching at the edges of his face. 

"My my, how _slummy_ Tiger," he sighed, and his dark eyes swept over the bleached carpeting to the man that stood tall and proud. 

Why the fuck the man called him Tiger sometimes, he hadn't found out. Not just yet. But the ex-colonel was a smart man, and eventually he'd figure out why; he had the shrewd idea that it had something to do with the scars that Moriarty traced so fondly while in his company. 

Traced them with soft fingers and smiled as he did, his teeth bared in a predatory grin that made Sebastian's heart race harder than the tigers in the jungles did, than the bombs around him and the guns cracking off near his face. How the fuck the small man invoked the feeling with a _smile_ was beyond him, and yet he always did.

Sebastian wrinkled his nose and flicked his wrist, twisting the butterfly knife until it closed and he clenched it in his palm, lips pursed slightly while his blue eyes focused on the smaller man. He should have known he'd know where he lived. It wasn't like there was anything he could hide from the sly son of a bitch. Still, he felt annoyed the man had come without call, and even more so as his leather shoes (Jesus Christ, always the expensive ones) stepped over his carpeting and the door closed behind him.

"I take it this isn't a social call, Boss." The sigh ruffled out from cracked lips and Seb cocked a brow upward, watching as the man walked closer and closer, his fingers wiggling slightly at his sides, as if itching for something. 

Sebastian knew the itchy finger look (God, he got it himself so often), and for a moment he wondered what in the fucking hell could have gotten under his employer's skin so much that he looked like he was going to strangle something.

It was a moment too late that Seb realized that the something - some _one_ \- that psycho boss was going to strangle was _him_. 

Not until the spidery fingers had reached and wrapped his throat and a sharp blow from a well aimed kick to the knees sent him sprawling down, slamming onto the floor on his kneecaps and hissing out what air he could. Only then did the sniper realize what was going on and he sputtered, hands reaching and wrapping fingers around a delicate wrist. But never twisting, never breaking. God, he couldn't even do it, he could only choke and try to suck in air as the villain ducked himself a little lower and let out a hissing sneer between bared teeth, his dark eyes wild and suddenly sending shocks screaming into the man's system.

"What the _hell_ do you think you're doing, Moran?" 

Oh no, Moran. He'd only heard himself called that once, after a particularly vicious punishment for fucking up something. Oh. _Shit_. What happened this time? 

The confusion must have shown on his face, because his blue eyes flickered as he sucked in what air he could, his face reddening as the criminal smiled in a more wicked and twisted way, digging nails into flesh and making those shocks suddenly turn south.

"I know you went off and fucked that pretty girl. Did you think it was a private affair, hmm? I know you were _aaaaaaaching_ for relief," he sing-sang the words, the lilted tone drawing up and down the pitch bar and making Seb breath harder. "But you. Belong. To. Me."

The movement was quick, and while Sebastian had his hands on the delicate wrist, he watched the man kneel before he reached, ducking where the sniper couldn't see with his head tilted ever so slightly up. It wasn't until he heard a loud click and felt cold steel brushing the flesh of one cheek that his eyes darted and caught the sight of the blade in his peripheral vision.

_Shit._

"Oh Sebastian. Sebby, Sebby, Sebby. Here I thought you were so good, such a well trained pet, so very _obedient_." The words were a hiss and the blade dug into his skin, pushing and tearing just a few inches of it, steadily sliding. "It looks like I might have to give you a few new.. stripes, for this. Maybe somewhere more visible, to deter someone else, hmmm?" he laughed, his eyes wild, the look of the madman he was, and Seb felt his heart jam up into his throat, choking him.

_'Jesus fucking Christ.'_

Batshit crazy was going batshit crazy, and it was all he could do to stay still before the blade pushed a little further along his cheek, and he _shuddered_. Suddenly, his muscles were slackened, and his hands dropped from the delicate wrist as his eyes fluttered. 

Something like understanding flashed in those dark eyes and Devil man smiled so wide Seb was sure that his face was going to break into pieces and fall away.

"Oh _pet_ , look at you. Look at this. ... this is what you wanted, isn't it? You wanted this violence. This dominance. You _wanted_ to be put into place, didn't you? Is that why you did it? Pushed and pushed until THIS," he snarled, the last word hitching in tone while Sebastian felt the slide of a knee against the crotch of his pants. 

Fuck. And he knew Jim could feel the hardness of his cock, eagerly throbbing against his jeans and pulsing, at full attention and begging for something. Sebastian would have to be an idiot to miss the lean predator smile like a cat that found a mouse, all teeth and surprise and joy. Eagerness.

The hand holding the knife had twisted, and Sebastian _moaned_ as he felt the skin rip before the cold point was gone, and the fingers relented enough for him to suck down air, panting before the hand was gone and twisting into his hair instead, jerking it. He felt his neck bow and the larger man was staring at the ceiling with a moan on his tongue as several strands of hair parted his scalp and his Adam's apple bounced with a thick swallow of saliva.

"You're practically begging me for this," came the words, and Sebastian felt his cock give another throb against the knee nearly crushing against him, before the slide of steel ran over his throat, gingerly drawing a line that caused beads of blood.

Christ, it felt good. It felt godly. It felt fucking amazing and Seb wanted more, more, more.

The ex-colonel whimpered, feeling the blade dig against the side of his neck, as he heard the laugh in his ear (when the fuck did the man get so close to his ear?) and the slide of a tongue against the flesh, hot and wet. 

"Ask for it, pet. Ask for this nicely, and I just might give it to you."

He caved. He caved and felt his walls melt as the moan parted his lips like an unholy cry that would have made the devil himself wonder what the fuck was going on.

"P-please. Fuck, please?" He shouldn't have begged. Shouldn't have said it, but fuck, it felt so _right_. 

The blade pinched his skin, and warmth trickled down his neck before it disappeared and a sudden flare roared up his body as the wound was suddenly bitten. _Bitten_. Sebastian knew biting, knew what it felt like to have an animal hanging off of him, but this was pure euphoria and fuck he wanted to bottle the feeling and carry it with him everywhere, but it was impossible. Instead he could only sputter and choke as his hair was yanked more and he was forced to bare his neck entirely with muscles screaming along his shoulders and collarbones from the force exerted.

The violence was far from over, and he fucking knew it. He knew exactly what the fuck was going to happen, and all he wanted to do was melt, feeling his hair jerked to a point where his neck cricked and spots danced in front of his eyes. 

Shit. 

It would be a long night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh you lovelies. Next chapter is pure smut, so don't you fret your pretty little heads~


	4. BLOOD AND LUST

Fuck, he should have known better.

Should have known better and yet Sebastian was _keening_ like a whore under his breath as his neck bent back, back, back, by the fingers in his hair until he was sure that his bones were going to snap and break away. Until they were going to be ground into dust from the angle and he was going to collapse into a heap.

He should have known better than to push at the buttons until they jammed up. 

But Sebastian was a _pusher_ and always would be.

Pushing with Jim was like breathing in life that shook the cold from his bones and sent an injection of adrenaline through his chest more than any kill could ever do. The well dressed devil was his own personal brand of heroin and he wasn't going to give it up, and he knew the spidery man knew it too.

Teeth sank into his neck again, creating a blooming bruise that made the sniper moan, his cock throbbing harder in his pants, up against the knee that was pushing more against him before he felt the trailing of a blade down his body. It traced ever so slowly down his chest, leaving a beading red line in its wake - detroying his shirt - before flicking, casually adding another deep red line that would scar over silvery pink, to match the rest of his stripes.

And god, he fucking moaned like a whore when he felt the blade sink in.

A breathless laugh washed over his neck, hot and heavy and drawing goosebumps over the flesh with a low whine that peeled from his own lips.

"Listen to yourself Tiger. Oh, oh, oh, how you _want_ this SOOO-ooo badly."

The words were worse, so up close and so heavy in his ear. Sebastian had been craving this for _months_ now and all he could do was let out a keening and garbled sound from his throat, his pupils blowing wide and reducing the blue iris to nothing but a small ring.

"Mm _nah_ , yessir," he breathed, panted, _moaned_ out for the criminal to hear.

Christ, the reaction was priceless.

The devil himself wouldn't have looked more aroused than the small man, his eyes dark, dark, _dark_ and his teeth glinting in a wide and predatory grin. It was a wild and fierce look, one that was dangerous and one that Sebastian had always pushed and toyed with. A look that was now going to cause him to come in his fucking pants if he kept staring or if he let it happen. 

As suddenly as the look was there, it was gone, and the smaller man stepped up and twirled the blade in his fingers, his head tipping and his thin fingers suddenly snapping.

Just like that, with the smallest crack of noise, Sebastian was swaying like a charmed snake, lifting up on his knees and whimpering to himself before fingers tangled into his dirty blonde hair and yanked, tugging him close until all he could do was reach out and wrap his arms around a small waist, moaning as his face buried against a sharp hip, his body shaking.

"Oh Tiger, you're _shaking_ ," came the delighted voice, as if the spidery man had found a new plaything. "Do you want me that badly? Hmm? Why didn't you ever say anything?" 

The fingers in his hair went from yanking to soothingly petting, like a master petting their dog, and the sniper tilted his head with a moan, looking up and swallowing thickly. He knew better than to not answer. Knew a lot of things, now, that he'd been working with the man for months.

"I didn't - couldn't - _fuck_ ," he hissed, taking in a breath. "Didn't know I could ask. Didn't know if yo-OOU-" 

The words trailed off into a moan, loud and clear as he felt the nudge of a shin between his legs, rubbing against his straining cock before the smaller man tutted, laughter in his voice and amusement painted across his features.

"You're leaving a spot on the front of your pants, Sebastian," he breathed, and god, the use of his first name entirely had the sniper nearly clawing at the thigh he rubbed his face against, whining lowly against. 

"Don't come just yet," Jim breathed, and another snap of his fingers was heard that made Seb stand up, his large body shivering and his knees nearly buckling with want. "Let's get to the bedroom."

\----

Though it was his flat, Sebastian followed the criminal like a puppy, or rather, a shaking shadow, straight to the somehow more immaculate bedroom and through the doorway, until he paused, a hair's width away from nearly falling into the other man as he paused.

"Mmm, small, but it'll do. For no-ow," Devil man sing-songed the words, his voice rising and lowering before his eyes were once more on the sniper, and Sebastian felt his knees nearly buckle from the fucking intensity of the man's stare.

Christ, he had it _bad_.

"Strip, Colonel."

The word had the sniper hesitating, just briefly, before he shuddered and found himself dutifully shucking off the ruined shirt, throwing it to the side and removing his trousers as well as his boxers, baring himself to the other and feeling no shame in it. 

Granted, the way the man looked at him had his cock nearly jumping in eagerness, flushed and proud where it bobbed slightly. Jim knew it too, by the look in his dark eyes that only made Sebastian stand a little straighter, and suddenly, he was pounced on.

Years of instinct hadn't gone to waste, and Sebastian found himself twisting mid-fall, taken off guard by how fucking _quick_ the little bastard was until he had Jim pinned and he felt the cool point of a semi-forgotten knife against his throat the moment they landed. 

There was a darker look in those abysmal depths, something uncontained, deadly, and he had to bite back a moan as he held absolutely still. The knife was too close to his jugular for his liking, and the look on the smaller man's face was bloody fucking _murder_.

"Come back to me, have you?" he breathed, his lips spreading into a deadly little smile that made Seb's heart skip and stutter in his chest, his cock still aching. "Get off of me, like a good pet, and lay flat on your back on the mattress."

He didn't need to be told twice.

With ease, he moved his larger frame from the suited frail one, falling to the mattress and rolling on his back, but before he could get to that point and get any sort of comfortable, the man was on him again, something in his hands other than the knife that startled the sniper as his arms were yanked upward and - with minimal struggle on his part - _tied_ to the shitty metal headboard.

"There. Mmm, you better not rip it, or I'll be using your hide as a new one."

What?

Seb blinked, confused, before realizing Jim had used his fucking _tie_ as a makeshift bondage restraint. The little fucker was fast when it came to doing what he wanted, and he took the words to heart with a nod, breathing shallowly. 

"Good boy," hummed in the air, dancing up and down an invisible pitch bar as the criminal straddled him slowly, clothes and all. "Now, let's add some stripes to that body of yours. A few new scars and a few.. momentos, to remind you that you are _mine_."

The blade was shining in the air, and god, Sebastian could feel his heart in his throat.

"Don't worry darling, it'll feel good soon enough. You'll learn to like it."

Like it? He loved it. And with Jim in charge, it only seemed that much more intense.

\----

The sheets were a bloody mess, crimson staining white and pain was _everywhere_ , bleeding into pleasure and blurring until the two were one. 

Somehow, over the hours it had felt that Jim had carved carefully into his flesh, it had all turned into one glorious wave of pleasure to Sebastian, ebbing and flowing like a tide. 

"Oh Tiger," Jim groaned, running his fingers delicately over the most recent cut. His nails caught the edges and pulled slightly, widening it and causing a hiss to fall from the sniper's lips. "I still haven't heard you sa-aaay it," he hummed, the words still tuned to something along a sing-song. 

He was toying with him, his free hand reaching down to stroke Sebastian's leaking cock, causing the larger man to whimper. Fuck, he was toying with him. He'd been brought to the edge several times, and all he could think of was Jim. Jim, Jim, Jim, Jim. He felt like he'd _broke_ somewhere along the line of the sexual torture.

" _Nngh_ \- y-yours," Sebastian whispered the word, and felt the hand on his prick freeze mid-stroke, drawing a whimper from his throat.

"Hmm? Tiger? What was that?" A flash of a twisted smile; a predator that caught its prey at last, had it good and cornered.

Damnit.

"Yours," he said louder, breathing it out.

"Again, Sebastian," Jim hissed, and twisted his hand on his prick.

"F-FUCK, YOURS! YOURS! _YOURS!_ " It was a near screaming chant of a cry that blew from his lips, and Sebastian felt his hips twitch and try to rock up, once more pinned by the naked thighs of the other man.

Somewhere along the line (he vaguely recalled), the consultant had stripped to keep his clothes clean. A ruined suit was no good, after all.

"That's what I've been _dying_ to hear." A soft croon, a treat for the man he'd finally broke. "See, you are all mine, aren't you?" Jim ducked his head, his eyes alight with a ferocity that came with finally getting his way, making the larger man bow to him.

Sebastian could have killed him any fucking time he wanted, but he didn't. Oh, he didn't.

"Now, I'm going to give you your reward, and you're going to like it like a good little Tiger. You're even allowed to come, but not before I do."

The small hand on his cock shifted, and Sebastian felt himself gasp as his hips twitched and shifted, the other hand digging into a wound before he heard the humming through his haze of pain and pleasure.

"Mmm, your blood does come in handy, did you know that?" 

Sebastian looked from where he was, groaning as he saw the streaked crimson against his cock. Warning bells would have went off, but nothing happened. Nothing. His mind was a haze of nothing but the other man, obeying him, listening, bowing to him. With the way the little fucker had been digging at his new wounds so much, it was no surprise he'd also been using his blood as makeshift lubrication. Christ, it was gritty, it was dirty, and damnit, it was more arousing than it should have been. Jim would snap out of it later, surely, and be ridiculously pissed off.

"Easy Tiger," Jim crooned the words, straddling the other man before slowly, ever so slowly, sliding downward and guiding his prick up and into himself.

The tightness, the resistance, the _everything_ had Sebastian jerking his arms, his heels digging into the bed at the same time as he cried out and threw his head back. Every nerve lit up with pain and pleasure as the other sank down, down, down, and finally, let him bottom out, to a point where Seb was practically _sobbing_.

"Move," he moaned.

Move, Sebastian did.

His hips snapped up from his angle, shifting with as much leverage as he could get, his heels digging into the mattress as he rocked upward and felt the push downward from the tight and hot feel of Jim. Pleasure blossomed and rocked up through him, pushed against his abdomen and right up against the base of his spine as his hips rolled and moved out of rhythm as they fucked with a reckless abandon, though Jim was in charge. Jim was always in charge.

Nails bit into his side, and a hand wrapped around his throat, causing Seb to snap his eyes open and choke out, dark eyes taking in the sight on his employer's face.

Jim had gone from predatory to sheer pleasure, his eyes fluttering as his slender fingers squeezed his sniper's throat, barely cutting off the air as his hips rocked downward. He had control, utter control, and the other man was nothing but his now. All his. _All_ his. But even as the pleasure rolled through him, there was something settling in his gaze, demanding and deadly as his hips rolled and he hissed, squeezing his fingers a little more just to hear the choked cry of the other man's pleasure. It gave him a heady thrill to hear it, to exert power over a man that could break him in seconds. 

The way Sebastian writhed under his look, the simple gaze of his eyes made his breath hitch, and he dug his fingers a little deeper into a wound, ripping the flesh apart idly and watching the sniper squirm before feeling the thrust upward and how they increased with the pain and pleasure.

It only took a few more thrusts before he was coming, the fluid hitting Sebastian on the chest and stomach, smearing with blood and making the larger man whine, his face reddening from the lack of air as he tried to suck in a breath, barely getting it.

"P-please," he choked, and saw that lovely smile on Jim's lips again, even through the pleasure and the haze he'd just been in. The smile of a victorious creature. The smile of a devil with a fresh soul in his grasp.

Slowly, the criminal bent, and Sebastian felt the wicked breath on his ear, the twist of fingers knuckle deep in a wound before he whined lowly, his eyes nearly rolling back.

"Come."

A simple word, a simple command, and he was writhing with a choking cry, muscles locking up under knotted and scarred flesh as he came, everything whiting out in his vision and dark spots popping. 

The last thing Sebastian could recall was the laugh in his ear and the hiss of _"Mine, Tiger. You belong to me now. Every part of you,"_ in his ear before it was too much, and his vision went black.


End file.
